


Everything That Happened In Between

by ReadTheSubtext



Category: Army Wives
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadTheSubtext/pseuds/ReadTheSubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion piece for 6x14 ('Fatal Reaction'). Claudia Joy and Denise turn to each other in the aftermath of their ordeal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything That Happened In Between

Claudia Joy can't bring herself to look at the lifeless body that's sprawled next to her, far too close for comfort. She inches away from the pool of blood that's creeping towards her, and watches with morbid fascination as it soaks through the rug and leaves a prominent stain in its wake. Her cheek is smarting, and the smallest movement sends a fresh jolt of pain lancing through her temple, but she staggers to her feet and extends her arms towards Denise, who looks like she's on the verge of keeling over. Denise isn't looking at her, though; her eyes are fixated on the man she just killed, and her vacant expression makes Claudia Joy's stomach churn. 

“Denise?” Claudia Joy can barely hear herself speak, because her ears are still ringing from the deafening sound of those gunshots. It takes her a moment to realise that Denise is still clutching the offending weapon, and when she sees how violently her friend's hands are shaking, her concern quickly turns to alarm. 

“Denise?” she says again, and this time she stumbles into Denise's line of vision, blocking her view of the carnage. “Don't look at him; look at me,” she begs, and Denise's eyes briefly skitter towards her. It takes all of Claudia Joy's self-control not to burst into tears when she sees the muted terror lurking behind her friend's glazed expression. 

“Hey,” she says softly, and she reaches out, letting her fingertips brush over the fabric of Denise's robe. Denise flinches a little, and Claudia Joy doesn't know whether to take a step back, or prolong the contact. “It's OK,” she murmurs, and she gently cups Denise's face in her hands, compelling her attention. “It's over. We're safe now.”

She says it over and over again, until her words finally start to register. Denise's tortured hazel eyes bore into hers, and Claudia Joy watches with a heavy heart as her friend's numbness slowly gives way to blind panic. 

“We need to call the police,” Denise says, in a tone that's frantic with urgency, but she remains rooted to the spot. 

“I know, and we will, but first I need you to put down the gun so I can untie your hands.” Claudia Joy tries to sound authoritative, but there's a tremor in her voice and her throat feels as dry as sandpaper.

“Are you sure he's...” Denise glances over her shoulder, and Claudia Joy nods sombrely, barely concealing a wince.

“He's dead.”

“Oh God.” Denise sinks limply to the floor, and when her white-knuckled grip becomes lax with exhaustion, Claudia Joy takes the opportunity to gingerly prise the gun out of her friend's hands, setting it down on the coffee table. She reaches for the scissors lying a few feet away from them, and feels nauseous when she realises that they're still slick with the bastard's sweat.

“Oh God,” Denise whispers again, and her eyes are brimming with tears, “What have I done?”

“You did what you had to do,” Claudia Joy informs her resolutely, “To protect yourself. To protect me. Now, hold still.” 

She painstakingly slices through the plastic cuffs binding Denise's hands together and then gently holds her friend's wrists in her palms, kneading Denise's skin in an effort to restore the circulation. Denise just stares unblinkingly at the wall, and Claudia Joy wishes there was something she could say to wrench her friend away from this living hell. 

“Well, my new kidney just got the ride of its life,” she jokes, making a feeble attempt to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. She chokes out a hollow, high-pitched laugh, which rapidly peters out when her bruised cheekbone screams in protest. Her eyes stray to the matching contusion on Denise's face, and she feels sick to the stomach. 

“Denise?” This time, Claudia Joy's tone is laced with desperation, and Denise finally snaps out of her reverie, meeting her worried gaze.

“You should check your glucose levels,” Denise says, distractedly, “You haven't eaten since lunchtime.” 

Claudia Joy tries not to to find her friend's detachment unnerving. “I'm fine,” Claudia Joy hastens to reassure her, although she's not sure if she even knows what 'fine' means anymore. 

“He shouldn't... he shouldn't have hit you like that.” This time, there's a tinge of hysteria in Denise's tone, and Claudia Joy stays perfectly still when her friend tentatively reaches out to touch her throbbing cheek. “I had to stop him, Claudia Joy. I _had_ to.”

“I know.” Claudia Joy has to look away when Denise's chin starts to tremble, because she can't hold it together if Denise falls apart. “I felt the same way when I saw you sitting in that chair,” she confesses, and her voice is thick with repressed emotion. “You... you saved my life, Denise.” She swallows around the lump in her throat, “And not for the first time.”

Denise meets her grateful gaze, but Claudia Joy gets the impression that she's looking through her, rather than at her. 

“I'm sorry I wasn't here when he...” Claudia Joy trails off, biting her lip, “I should never have left the door unlocked. I don't know what I was thinking.” 

Denise ducks her head, but she doesn't negate her apology. 

“He didn't hurt you, did he?” Claudia Joy can barely bring herself to say it, let alone think it, “When he said that he'd... that he'd been 'getting to know you,' he didn't mean...?”

“No,” Denise murmurs quietly, but she's staring at the floor, and Claudia Joy isn't entirely convinced.

“Sweetheart...” Claudia Joy reaches out, placing her hands over Denise's to stop her from wringing them, “It's OK. You can tell me.” 

“Nothing happened,” Denise reiterates, this time more forcefully, “And don't even think about blaming yourself. You're the one who got us out of this mess, Claudia Joy. If you hadn't distracted him...” 

It looks like Denise can't bring herself to utter the unthinkable, either. They gaze at each other in grim understanding, until Claudia Joy can't bear to look at the desolate expression on her friend's face anymore. She impulsively wraps her arms around Denise's shoulders, easing her into a feather-light embrace. At first, Denise doesn't respond, she just sits there in rigid acceptance, and Claudia Joy wonders if she's making a bad situation worse. 

“I should...” Claudia Joy gestures to the cell phone lying on top of her purse, and then pulls back to give Denise some space. She has to bite her lip to keep from crying when Denise clings to her convulsively, clutching the fabric of her cardigan.

“Don't leave me on my own,” Denise pleads, in quiet desperation, and Claudia Joy scoops her up again, cradling her close. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” she vows, blinking back tears as she rocks Denise back and forth, angling her body to shield her friend from the grisly spectacle on the other side of the room.

“It was self-defense, Denise,” Claudia Joy assures her, “And I'm going to make damn sure they know it, OK?” 

Denise dips her head in acknowledgement, but it's clear she isn't really listening. “How many times did I shoot him? Four, five? I can't even remember.”

“It doesn't matter. The police are going to take one look at this room and know that you didn't have a choice. The only way we could've made it out of here alive is if that son-of-a-bitch was dead.”

Claudia Joy strokes her friend's hair, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Denise, I promise you, they're going to take our statements, and then they're going to let us go home. You have nothing to worry about.”

Claudia Joy's heart skips a beat when Denise suddenly jerks away from her.

“I have nothing to worry about? Jesus Christ, Claudia Joy, I just _killed_ a man!” 

The angry outburst takes Claudia Joy by surprise, and she watches in consternation as Denise clamps a hand over her mouth, making a beeline for the bathroom. 

She tries to tune out the sound of Denise's violent retching as she dials 911 and stammers out the details of their location. She recounts the events of the past two hours to the operator, but her words sounds surreal, even to her own ears. Even when she casts a wary glance at the bullet-strewn body on the floor, it doesn't ground her in the moment. It's like she's lost in a fog; watching a film through hazy glasses; and when she makes her way towards the bathroom, it feels like she's sleep-walking.

She snaps out of her daze when she sees Denise slumped over the toilet, though. She watches her friend's body heaving with revulsion, and thinks that if the bastard wasn't already dead, she'd be only too happy to finish the job herself. She crouches down next to Denise, and gathers her friend's hair in a loose ponytail with one hand, gently rubbing her back with the other.

“One day, we're going to finish this vacation,” she tells her, “We're going to lie on the beach sipping margaritas and reading magazines, without a care in the world. And who knows? Maybe I'll even let you take me for a spin on that bike of yours.”

Denise makes a sound that's half laugh, half-sob, and Claudia Joy hands her some toilet paper so she can wipe off her mouth. 

“We'll eat out at fancy restaurants every night, get the full spa-treatment, and we'll be blissfully happy. Because things like this can't keep happening to us, Denise. They _can't._ ”

Claudia Joy tries to quell the suffocating surge of emotion that's rising in her chest, but then Denise pulls the chain and turns to face her. Claudia Joy sees the tears streaming silently down her friend's cheeks, and suddenly, she's crying, too. 

“Someone up there must really have it out for us, huh?” she observes, with a bitter laugh. 

Denise nods, but then her face crumples and her breath hitches and Claudia Joy can see that it's taking everything she has not to lose it completely.

“Oh, sweetheart. Come here,” she murmurs, and Denise crawls towards her, curling into a ball and resting her head on Claudia Joy's lap.

“I used to love this place,” she says listlessly. “Now I'll never be able to come back here again.”

Claudia Joy swipes at her eyes and nods her understanding, running her fingers through her friend's hair. 

“We'll find a new place,” she vows, resting a placating hand on Denise's hip, “I promise.”

“What... what am I supposed to tell Frank?” Denise asks her brokenly, “He was so worried about me having this operation; and now...now I have to tell him that some madman just broke into our beach house and tried to...”

“I'll call Michael and he can fill Frank in on the details, OK?” Claudia Joy suggests, hoping to ease her friend's agitation, “They can drive up here together.”

Denise lets out a ragged sigh, and nods. 

“OK,” she concedes, and then lapses into a melancholy silence. 

Claudia Joy knows that she should make the call now, before the police arrive, but she can't bring herself to move. Denise is still curled up in her lap, clutching her legs like they're some kind of lifeline, and Claudia Joy needs this, because her concern for Denise is distracting her from her own turbulent thoughts.

When Denise abruptly pulls away from her, it's almost jarring, and Claudia Joy looks on in confusion as her friend moves blindly towards the bath. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I need to take a shower,” Denise announces from out of nowhere, and although Claudia Joy understands the compulsion, she wonders if her friend is fully cognizant of their current predicament.

“Sweetheart, no. We need to wait for the police,” she reminds her, blocking Denise's path when she attempts to reach for the temperature gauge.

“I need to take a shower, Claudia Joy.” Denise says again, and her tone is every bit as unyielding as her blank expression, “Now get out of my way!”

“Denise...” Claudia Joy tries to gently restrain her, but Denise pushes her aside.

“I mean, it, Claudia Joy, get out of my - ”

“POLICE!”

Claudia Joy's heart seizes inside her chest when she hears a man calling out to them from the living room, and Denise physically jumps, backing towards the wall like a caged animal. 

“It's OK,” Claudia Joy reassures her, laying a soothing hand on her friend's shoulder. “Everything's going to be OK.”

She waits for Denise to meet her steady gaze before revealing their whereabouts. 

“We're in the bathroom,” she yells, and Denise clutches her hand, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her as they prepare to re-live their ordeal.

* * *

Claudia Joy tries to concentrate on the questions that are being fired at her, but she can't tear her eyes away from Denise. Her friend is on the opposite side of the room, being interviewed by a Detective who clearly doesn't believe in coddling his victims, and Claudia Joy can only hope that Denise won't crack under the pressure. She studies her friend's defensive posture, sees the void expression on her face, and she wants to intervene before Denise shuts down completely. 

“I'm sorry, what?” she says, to the imposing police officer who's waiting to finish her statement.

“I said: did the perpetrator make any direct threats against your life? Did he imply that it was his intention to kill you?”

“He was holding us at gun point,” Claudia Joy reminds him through gritted teeth, trying not to sound as exasperated as she feels, “And he lunged at my friend with a pair of scissors in his hands. He struck both of us across the face when we tried to stand up to him. There's no doubt in my mind that he was capable of killing us... and that he would have, if Denise hadn't...” 

Claudia Joy glances across the room again, and finds her friend looking back at her. Their eyes lock, and for a fleeting moment, Claudia Joy sees a flicker of raw emotion behind Denise's steely gaze. 

“She saved my life,” Claudia Joy concludes, “And the last thing she needs is you people interrogating her and making her feel like she did something wrong.”

The officer nods his understanding, but there's no hint of remorse in his attentive gaze. “So you believe it was reasonable for Mrs Sherwood to shoot the suspect five times? Once wasn't enough?”

Claudia Joy understands what he's insinuating – it's the question she's been trying not to ask herself all night – but she knows she can't afford to show an inkling of doubt. 

“Denise was scared out of her mind – we both were - but she still tried to reason with him. She told him to stop, she offered to get him some help, she begged him to leave, but he just... he wouldn't listen. Denise didn't _want_ to pull that trigger. She _had_ to. He didn't give her a choice.”

The police officer finally seems satisfied with her version of events, and closes his notebook accordingly.

“OK, Claudia Joy, I have everything I need for now. You're free to go when your husband gets here.” He glances at his watch. “It's already been an hour, so you shouldn't have to wait for long.”

“Thank you.” Claudia Joy holds back a sigh of relief and immediately turns to see if the other Detective has finished cross-examining Denise. Her brow furrows when she realises that her friend is no-where to be seen. 

“She went to put on a fresh set of clothes,” the Detective says, by way of explanation, and Claudia Joy nods her acknowledgement.

She walks towards the back bedroom and hesitantly knocks on the door. When there's no answer, she tries again, anxiously calling her friend's name. 

Denise doesn't respond, and so Claudia Joy cautiously twists the doorknob and inches her way into the room. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach turns into a painful ache when she sees Denise sitting in the dark, slumped against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. Claudia Joy flicks on the light, but Denise doesn't even move. She just stares straight ahead, looking almost catatonic, and Claudia Joy feels helpless because she's seen that expression before; when Frank's helicopter was blown out of the sky; when they were going over the details of Jeremy's will. 

“Let me find you something to wear,” she says, mostly to break the deafening silence. 

Claudia Joy rifles through the clothes that Denise unpacked earlier on that morning, emerging with a pale grey sweater and a pair of worn jeans. She crosses the room and kneels down beside Denise, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

“Is it OK if I...?” She reaches for the belt of Denise's robe, and then hesitates. “Denise, I know you're exhausted and you just want to block all of this out, but I need you... I need you to talk to me, OK? Please,” she practically begs. 

“You said you would go first.” Denise responds, in a voice that sounds eerily disembodied. Claudia Joy looks at her sharply, wondering where she's going with this. 

“I wanted to buy you some time,” she says simply, hoping that Denise won't labour the point.

“So my life's worth more to you than...” Denise trails off, studying her uncomprehendingly, and Claudia Joy squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. 

“If it'd come down to that, then yes. I...I love you, Denise, and I couldn't just sit there and let him...” Claudia Joy swallows audibly, clearing her throat, “It was bad enough just watching him touch you,” she concludes, shuddering at the memory.

“I can still feel his hands...” Denise looks like she's about to gag, so Claudia Joy reaches out, resting her palms on Denise's bare thighs, trying to chase away the remnants of that bastard's vile touch.

“He kept saying that he couldn't stop thinking about the two of us. About... about all the possibilities. Do you think he would have...” Denise stares down at Claudia Joy's hands, which are rubbing her legs reassuringly, “Do you think he would've made us...”

It takes Claudia Joy a moment to realise what Denise is asking, and then she quickly pulls away, stricken by the scenarios that are racing through her mind. 

“You shouldn't... you shouldn't think about the what-ifs,” she tells Denise, but her hands are shaking and her cheeks are burning and the room suddenly feels too hot. The acrid taste of bile starts rising up in her throat, and this time she's the one who's running towards the bathroom and heaving up the contents of her sickened stomach. 

“Claudia Joy?” Denise is right there beside her, “What is it? What's wrong?” 

“I'm OK.” Claudia Joy takes a moment to regain her composure, filling up a plastic cup with some water from the sink and swilling it around her dry mouth. She splashes her face with cold water and dries her hands on a towel, turning to face Denise. “I just need some fresh air, that's all.”

“Well, let me get changed, and I'll come with you,” Denise says, and although Claudia Joy's grateful to have her friend back in some kind of semi-functional state, when Denise sheds her bathrobe and strips down to her underwear, the room starts to feel claustrophobic all over again.

“Denise?” she says quietly, “I couldn't have done it. Not like... not like that. Not for his entertainment.” She regards her friend with tear-filled eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Denise looks at her curiously for a moment, but then she nods her understanding. Her expression is full of warmth when she says, “I know.”

Claudia Joy gestures towards the door. “I'll... I'll wait outside.” 

She leaves the room before Denise has a chance to object. Ignoring the concerned glances of the police officers who are milling around in the hallway, she makes her way towards the upstairs balcony. The sea breeze hits her like a two by four, but she greedily inhales the salty air, using a breathing technique from her Yoga class to bring down her erratic pulse rate. She stands there, watching the crime scene technicians come and go against the picturesque backdrop of the ocean, and tries not to think about kissing Denise with a gun pointed at her head. She tries not to think about kissing Denise at all.

* * *

“Michael, I'm fine,” Claudia Joy says, for what feels like the thousandth time. She pulls away from her husband's warm embrace, but he gently clasps her arm, turning her around until she's facing him.

“No, you're not,” he says, and his voice is firm, but full of tenderness. It would be so easy to break down, to let Michael be the strong one for once, but Claudia Joy knows she's already put her husband through enough. 

She looks Michael right in the eye, so he can see she isn't about to fall apart, but when he reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Claudia Joy recoils away from him like she's been burned. For a second, she's back on that sofa again, powerless to do anything while a sociopathic maniac toys with her ear like it's some kind of plaything. 

Michael looks devastated, but when his jaw clenches in anger, Claudia Joy knows it isn't directed at her.

“Claudia Joy, did he touch you?” he demands, and Claudia Joy shakes her head. 

“I already told you, no.” Claudia Joy heaves a heartfelt sigh. “Michael, please. I can't talk about this right now. I'm tired. I just... I just want to go home.”

Michael looks like he's about to object, but when he sees her pleading expression, he quickly relents. “OK,” he concedes, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Let's go.”

Claudia Joy glances across the walkway at Denise. Five minutes ago, she was clinging to Frank like a limpet, but now she looks uncomfortable in his oppressive embrace. Their eyes meet briefly, and Claudia Joy attempts a small smile, which Denise wearily returns.

“Are you two ready to get out of here?” Michael asks Frank, and he nods his assent. 

“Roger that, Sir.”

“OK. I'll drive,” Michael says magnanimously. “Denise, you and Frank can take the back seat.”

Denise glances at her, and Claudia Joy opens her mouth to object, but she doesn't want to sound like a five-year-old on a school trip begging to sit next to her best friend.

She runs a comforting hand over Denise's forearm, and then reluctantly climbs into the front passenger seat. She watches her friend take the place directly behind her and tries to catch her eye through the side-view mirror, but Denise is already gazing out of the window in preparation for the long journey home.

They're on the road for all of ten minutes before Frank finally explodes. 

“OK, is someone going to tell me what the hell happened in there?” he demands, and Claudia Joy watches Denise flinch as she's jolted back to reality. 

“Leave it, Frank.” Michael warns him, but Frank shakes his head.

“My wife's face is all banged up and a police officer just informed me that she shot and killed a man. I have a right to know why.” 

“Frank...” Claudia Joy shifts in her seat, throwing a placating look in his direction. “She'll tell you when she's - ”

“He hit me, Frank, OK?” Denise interjects, in a disassociated tone, “He hit me, he tied me up, and then he threatened to rape me. If Claudia Joy hadn't been there, he probably would have. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“D, baby...” Frank looks horrified. He reaches for Denise's hand, but she pulls away from him.

“Don't,” she says, “Just don't.”

Claudia Joy shares a concerned look with Michael.

“Denise saved my life, Frank,” she tells him, hoping to appease his frustration.

“For what, the third time now?” he retorts, and Claudia Joy feels like she's been punched in the face all over again. Is that how Frank sees her? As someone who's constantly putting his wife's life in danger?

“Claudia Joy was there for me when you were thousands of miles away,” Denise reminds her husband in a clipped tone, “She was the one who picked up the pieces after Jeremy's death, she was the one who helped me to deliver our daughter, and she was the one who got me through tonight. I know you're upset, Frank, but don't you dare – don't you _dare_ \- take it out on her.”

“You're right.” Frank says, and he sounds genuinely contrite. “This is just... it's a lot to take in, that's all. I mean, we sent you up there to have some fun, and the next thing we know... I'm sorry, Claudia Joy.”

“You damned well better be,” Michael says through gritted teeth, but Claudia Joy shakes her head at him.

“Michael, it's fine. Let's just...” she sighs, willing this awful night to be over, “Put on the radio.”

They drive back to Fort Marshall in strained silence, and when they pull up outside of the Sherwoods' house, Frank utters a gruff “thank you” and then hastily climbs out of the car. He opens the door for Denise, who looks too exhausted to do anything but follow him, and Claudia Joy doesn't say anything, because she doesn't want to cause any more friction between them. 

Denise glances at her, clearly conflicted, so Claudia Joy gives her a reassuring smile. “It's OK. Go ahead and get some rest, and I'll call you tomorrow.”

“I...” Denise looks like she wants to say something else, but then she glances at Michael and seems to change her mind, “Just make sure you eat something as soon as you get home, OK?”

“I will,” Claudia Joy reassures her. She bites her lip, trying to ward off the tears. “Goodnight, Denise.”

“Goodnight.” Denise sends a pained look in her direction and then walks away, and Claudia Joy waits until she's back at home, alone in her bathroom, before she breaks down and succumbs to hitching sobs.

* * *

Every time Claudia Joy calls Denise's cell phone, Frank picks it up. He tells her that Denise is in the bath, that she's busy with the baby, that she's getting some rest, and Claudia Joy wonders if Frank is trying to protect his wife, or if Denise is deliberately avoiding her. She owes Denise everything; she's reminded of that every time she takes her anti-rejection pills, and going two days without seeing or speaking to her best friend is starting to take its toll. 

She knows Denise shuts everyone out when she's upset, but that doesn't stop her from agonising over the implications. Maybe Denise can't face her without re-living the horrors of that terrible night; maybe Denise associates her with nothing but bad memories. Maybe Frank's right. He obviously thinks that she's a magnet for disaster and Claudia Joy knows it isn't fair to keep dragging Denise along for the ride.

She has to force herself to eat, and she can barely sleep, so when her cellphone rings at 3.35am on Saturday morning, she picks it up almost immediately.

“Denise?” she says breathlessly, glancing at the caller ID panel, “What's wrong?”

“Claudia Joy, it's Frank,” he announces, and Claudia Joy's alarm increases exponentially when she hears the worry in his tone. “I'm sorry to bother you - ”

“It's fine.” She cuts him off, because she's too concerned to sit through the pleasantries. “Is everything OK?”

“Denise...” He clears his throat, and Claudia Joy's heart starts pounding violently, “Oh hell, I don't know what's wrong with her. She won't talk to me. She woke up crying and now she's locked herself in the bathroom and she... she won't come out.”

“I'll be right there,” Claudia Joy assures him, and she's already pushing back the covers and reaching for her slippers.

“She was screaming your name,” Frank tells her, and he doesn't sound happy about it.

“What's going on?” Michael asks her groggily, and Claudia Joy squeezes his arm. 

“Denise had a nightmare. I'm just going over there to check on her. I won't be long.”

Michael stirs into wakefulness, shaking his head. “Claudia Joy, Denise is a big girl, she'll be fine. You need to get some rest.”

“I won't be able to sleep until I know she's OK,” Claudia Joy tells him bluntly. “I'll call you and let you know what's happening.” 

“Claudia Joy - ”

“Go back to sleep, Michael.” Claudia Joy cuts him off with a quick peck on the cheek, and then she sprints down the stairs in her pyjamas.

* * *

“Maybe I should call Roland?” Frank asks her as soon as she walks through the door, and Claudia Joy shakes her head. 

“Frank, Denise has been through a lot. She's upset. That doesn't mean she needs psychiatric help.”

“She's been walking around here like a zombie. I just... I can't get through to her.”

“Things are still pretty raw, Frank. She'll come around,” Claudia Joy assures him, patting his arm consolingly. “Is it OK if I...?”

He nods his assent, and then follows her towards the bathroom.

“Denise?” Claudia Joy raps lightly on the door. “Can I come in?”

She listens for a response, and glances fretfully at Frank when she hears a faint sniffle.

“Sweetheart, it's me,” she says softly, “I need you to open the door, OK?”

“Claudia Joy?” Denise's tone is hoarse, but hopeful. 

“I'm right here,” Claudia Joy tells her, and her shoulders slump with relief when she hears the lock disengage. Frank takes a step forward, but Claudia Joy blocks his path, shaking her head.

“Let me,” she implores, and he hesitates, before ducking his head in acquiescence.

Claudia Joy gently pushes open the door, and then promptly shuts it behind her again, taking in the sorrowful sight of her friend sitting ram-rod straight against the bathtub.

“Hey,” she ventures quietly, feeling a pang of empathy as she regards Denise's bloodshot eyes and tear-soaked cheeks.

“Frank shouldn't have called you,” Denise says stiffly, blowing her nose and adding the soiled tissue to the wad that's accumulating on the bathroom floor. 

“He's just worried about you, that's all. And besides, I wanted... I wanted to come.” Claudia Joy sits down next to her friend, letting her fingertips brush over Denise's clammy hand. She can see that Denise's clothes are damp with perspiration, and she's shivering so violently Claudia Joy can feel the reverberations running through the bathtub. 

She opens up the bathroom drawer and retrieves the fluffiest towel she can find, wrapping it around Denise's juddering shoulders. 

“Frank said... he said that you had a nightmare?”

Denise sneaks a glance at her, and Claudia Joy can see the anguish in her tormented hazel eyes.

“You want to talk about it?” she hedges, and Denise shakes her head, abruptly lowering her gaze.

Claudia Joy isn't used to feeling ineffectual, but right now she understands why Frank is at his wits' end. “Is there anything... is there anything I can do?” 

Claudia Joy sucks in a shaky breath when Denise curls against her side and buries her face in the crook of her neck. 

“OK, just relax,” Claudia Joy soothes, wrapping her arms around Denise's shoulders and stroking her dishevelled hair. She hopes Denise won't notice the tears pooling in her own eyes, because she doesn't have the energy to fight them anymore. 

“He was...” Denise takes a deep breath, and Claudia Joy feels the arms around her waist tighten convulsively, “He was forcing me to watch while he... while he...” 

Denise can't finish the sentence without bursting into tears all over again, and Claudia Joy pulls back a little, cupping Denise's chin in her hands. 

“Hey, look at me,” she says, and she kisses her friend's forehead, her cheeks, her nose, “It didn't happen, Denise. I'm OK. It was just a dream.” 

Claudia Joy tries not to break down completely when her friend reaches out to reverently touch her face. Denise tenderly wipes away the tear that's trickling down her cheek, and Claudia Joy covers her friend's hand with her own, twining their fingers together and pressing a kiss against Denise's palm. 

“It was just a dream,” she reiterates, and this time, Denise nods, nestling into her embrace again. Claudia Joy uses the towel as a makeshift blanket, and lets her her head loll against Denise's shoulder, rubbing languid circles against her friend's back. She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, she realises that Denise has stopped shivering and her shallow breaths have become deep and even. 

“Frank,” she calls quietly, and she presses a finger to her mouth when he comes rushing into the bathroom. “She's asleep.” 

He nods his gratitude and gathers Denise into his arms, and Claudia Joy reluctantly relinquishes her hold on her friend as Frank lifts her off the floor and carries her into the bedroom. Claudia Joy hovers by the door, watching Frank tuck Denise in, and feels ashamed of the resentment that's gnawing at her.

“Do you want... do you want me to stay with her? Just in case...”

Frank shakes his head. “No, that's OK. I've got this.” He offers her a tight-lipped smile. “You go home to Michael.” 

“Are you sure?” she hedges, and Frank looks at her quizzically.

“Claudia Joy, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my own wife.”

Claudia Joy sighs resignedly. “OK, well, if you need anything - ”

“I know who to call,” he interjects, and at this point he's clearly struggling to remain civil. “Now, I appreciate everything you've done for Denise, but we all need to get some sleep, so...”

Claudia Joy takes the hint and bids him goodnight, walking to her car in a daze. She glances back at the house, and realises she hasn't felt this bereft since Amanda's death.

* * *

Two weeks later, Claudia Joy finally manages to steal Denise away for the day, and she takes her to a scenic clearing at the side of the harbour, with only a picnic basket for company. 

Claudia Joy feels safe out here; basking in the sunshine, surrounded by nature. The view is stunning; a panoramic landscape of sprawling flora and gleaming water. It's enough to make the events of the past fortnight seem surreal; like a distant memory instead of a constant blight on her subconscious. She barely spares a thought for the canister of pepper spray that's lying in her purse.

She takes a sip of wine and closes her eyes contentedly, savouring the crisp flavour and the warmth of the sun on her face. She's starting to feel pleasantly buzzed, and when she opens her eyes to find Denise smiling warmly at her, she breaks into an easy grin. 

“Thank you for doing this,” Denise says, and Claudia Joy waves off her gratitude.

“It's my pleasure.” 

Denise reaches across Claudia Joy's lap, picking up the plate of sandwiches they'd discarded only a few minutes ago. 

“You make better finger-food than Protocol,” Denise says with a sheepish smile, and Claudia Joy laughs, flushing with pleasure at her friend's praise.

“Take as many as you want. There's plenty to go around.”

Claudia Joy casts a surreptitious glance at Denise, and her eyes crinkle at the corners when she sees the tranquil expression on her friend's face. Denise looks worlds apart from the woman who was cowering in her arms and clinging to her for dear life, and although she isn't back to her old self, it's clear she's on the road to recovery.

Denise finishes off her sandwich and then fumbles around for the bottle of sun screen, handing it to Claudia Joy.

“My shoulders are starting to burn. Could you...?” she asks, rolling onto her stomach, and Claudia Joy moistens her lips with her tongue.

“Of course.” Denise's hair is cascading over her shoulders, so Claudia Joy gathers it into a sloppy ponytail and gently moves it aside. She inches down the straps of Denise's sleeveless top and sets about liberally applying the coconut-scented sun cream to her tanned shoulders, biting back a smile at the sound of her friend's happy sigh. 

Denise's skin looks smooth and lustrous in the sunlight, and with her toned arms and trim waist, she looks significantly younger than her forty-two years. Claudia Joy studies the smooth planes of Denise's back, and finds herself rubbing in the sun cream long after it's absorbed. Still, Denise doesn't show any signs of protesting, so Claudia Joy impulsively changes the pressure of her touch, kneading her friend's taut muscles in a gentle massage. 

“Mmm,” Denise exhales contentedly, and Claudia Joy's grateful that the other woman can't see her face, because her cheeks are starting to turn pink. She leans over Denise, expertly working out the tension in her muscles, until her fingers start to spasm and the ache between her thighs gets too insistent to ignore. 

“Better?” she asks, and Denise hums her approval, turning over to face her with a lazy smile. Claudia Joy hastily averts her eyes from her friend's chest. Either the breeze coming off the harbour is cooler than she thinks, or Denise found that massage every bit as pleasurable as she did.

Claudia Joy lies back on her towel and reaches for her book, but Denise puts a hand on her arm before she can turn the page. 

“Do you have any idea how brave you are, Claudia Joy?” she says softly, and her expression is suddenly serious. “When Jeremy was lashing out at me, I didn't know how to defend myself. I didn't even try. But you... you gave me the strength to stand up to him. Just like you gave me the strength to stand up to that man. If you hadn't been there...”

“Then I'm glad I was,” Claudia Joy says, earnestly, “Because I don't know what I'd do without you, Denise.”

Denise looks like she's poised to say something else, so Claudia Joy squeezes her hand. 

“Today's been wonderful. Let's not spoil the mood.”

“You're right.” Denise's expression brightens a little, and Claudia Joy notices a mischievous twinkle in her friend's eyes. 

“Come on.” Denise says, tugging on her hand.

“Where are we going?” Claudia Joy asks in confusion, and Denise meets her curious gaze with an impish grin.

“The water looks beautiful, don't you think?”

“But I didn't bring a costume - ” 

Denise quirks an eyebrow, and Claudia Joy shakes her head violently.

“Oh, no. No way. I'm not going skinny-dipping with the raccoons,” she says, referring to Denise's earlier escapades at Ocean Vale. 

“Claudia Joy, there isn't anyone around here for miles,” Denise observes, and Claudia Joy glances along the deserted shoreline. All she hears is the sound of crickets chirping and birds singing.

“Denise, I'm the Corps Commander's wife. I can't afford to be arrested for public indecency.”

“Oh yeah?” Denise gives her a playful nudge, “And what happened to the girl who used to steal her parents' car to go out clubbing?”

“She grew up!” Claudia Joy exclaims, although she can't help but laugh.

“And then there's all that “experimentation” you did in college,” Denise persists, and Claudia Joy's ears turn pink. 

“Denise - ”

“You never did tell me exactly what that entailed.”

“OK, fine,” Claudia Joy concedes, just to circumvent her friend's current line of questioning, “But if we get caught, I'm pleading coercion.”

Denise laughs, and Claudia Joy's so enamoured by the sound, she wonders if there's anything she won't do for her best friend. 

“You first,” she says, and Denise gamely sheds her clothes, leaving Claudia Joy slack-jawed with awe. Her eyes travel from the clearly defined muscles of her friend's thighs, to the trim thatch of hair between Denise's legs, to the smooth contours of her stomach. They settle on Denise's generous breasts, and Claudia Joy swallows audibly, trying to feign ambivalence. 

Denise regards her in amusement. “What?” she asks, curiously, and Claudia Joy finally manages to wrench her eyes away.

“Nothing... I just... Frank's a lucky man,” she chokes out with an awkward laugh.

“So is Michael,” Denise counters with a sly wink, and then she dives gracefully into the water, leaving Claudia Joy staring after her in disbelief, wondering just how much Denise has had to drink.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?” Denise shouts, and Claudia Joy self-consciously strips down to her underwear, taking one last look around before she cautiously dips a toe in the water. 

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” she mutters to herself, but then she casts aside her bra and panties and finally takes the plunge, swimming out to join Denise.

“It feels amazing, right?” Denise yells, and Claudia Joy treads water, turning to face her with a beaming smile.

“It does,” she concedes, and then she playfully flings some water at Denise, catching her squarely in the face.

Denise sputters out her protests, and Claudia Joy swims away from her before she can retaliate, laughing uproariously. As she powers through the lukewarm water with smooth, even strokes, she feels stronger than she has in months, but Denise quickly catches up to her, grabbing her ankle and tickling her foot until she's barely keeping her head above water. They chase each other around the harbour, frolicking and squealing like a pair of overgrown kids, and Claudia Joy remembers what it feels like to be happy for the first time in months.

When her arms feel like lead and she doesn't have any more energy left to spare, she flips onto her back, staring up at the bright blue sky with a sense of wonderment. She lets the gentle rippling of the water lull her into a contented daze, and smiles when she feels Denise take her outstretched hand. They stay like that until the sun starts to set, and then they reluctantly make their way back to shore, matching each other stroke-for-stroke. 

Claudia Joy breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that their clothes and towels are still where they left them, but she doesn't feel as inhibited anymore. She dries herself off, and sneaks one last look at Denise, committing every detail to memory.

Denise pulls on her skirt and turns to regard her with a radiant smile. Her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks are flushed, and Claudia Joy catches a glimpse of the devil-may-care Denise, the Denise who rides around on motorcycles without a licence and drags her to tattoo parlours on a whim. She wonders if her friend has any idea how mesmerising she is when she's like this; carefree and unencumbered.

“Claudia Joy, that day at the beach, when you were talking about the roads not taken, you meant your Law career, right?” Denise asks, and Claudia Joy finds her sudden interest a little unnerving. 

She hesitates, and then nods her agreement. “Why?” she ventures, and her voice sounds hoarse, even to her own ears, “What did you think I meant?”

The way Denise is looking at her makes her stomach clench with anticipation.

“I thought... I thought maybe...” Denise trails off, and Claudia Joy closes the distance between them, taking her friend's hand.

She kisses Denise on the mouth; softly, sweetly, long enough to elicit a quiet moan. Then she pulls away, stroking Denise's cheek regretfully.

“Today was perfect,” she says, and Denise's eyes are brimming with tears when she opens them to look at her, “And no-one can ever take that away from us.”

They walk back to the car hand-in-hand, and then Claudia Joy clenches her jaw, forcing herself to let go.


End file.
